When courage doesn't feel courageous.

Last summer we had a sunshiney family holiday.  Incredibly we were able to go to Santorini in Greece and we loved the water, the heat and, of course, the food.

As a treat, we booked a day out on a boat to visit the local hot springs, tour the beautiful island and jump in and out of the sea.

The trouble is, I don't really like jumping into water.  The rest of my family seem to be able to fling themselves into water from any angle possible.  Not me.  It's too scary.

So I spent the few days leading up to the boat trip practicing.  I jumped into the swimming pool, first of all with my lovely Jonah there to pull me up in case anything went wrong.  Then, as I was more confident, I managed to jump without anyone there at all.

When we finally reached the big day, I was determined.  As expected, the boys spent the whole day backflipping, somersaulting, pushing and dive bombing into the sea.  

I mostly (ungracefully) climbed down the ladder on the side of the boat.  Until we reached the hot springs.  I wanted to be able to jump in.  I knew it would be safe (ish).  Jared was next to me.  But as I stared at the water, it felt like an enormous drop.  I was scared.  So, instead of jumping, I took a step off the boat and slid into the water.  It wasn't very ladylike and I resurfaced spluttering.

But I did it.  

And that's how courage feels.

I wasn't feeling full of energy.

I didn't have the 'ooomph' and 'pump' to do it.

I was still scared, even though I'd practiced.

The water looked too deep.

My brain was telling me not to do it.

I didn't know how it would end.

I wasn't feeling like Wonderwoman.

But the Disney and Pixar version of courage isn't real.  To have all you need before you make that scary jump just is fictional.

Courage is making the jump anyway.

Courage is waking up each morning, without knowing all the answers, but getting out of bed anyway.

Courage is loving that person who can't return your love at the moment.

Courage is crying and wobbling, but going ahead with the decision you've made.

Courage is knocking on a door and not knowing what's on the other side.

Courage is saying no when you can't do it all.

Courage is taking the scary feelings, piling them out in front of you and then stepping over the pile.

Courage sometimes means we resurface spluttering.

Courage doesn't ignore the 'you can't' words.  Sometimes courage takes those words along on the ride.

Courage is persevering when everything inside wants to give up.

Courage does not feel all the Hollywood feels.  

Its a tiny stubborn spark of determination that, despite the reality of the circumstances, propels you to make that jump.